Human Again
by SJ3GIRL
Summary: (Post-post Reichenbach) Molly finds new confidence in herself and decides to assess if Sherlock is human or not...RATED M FOR LATER CHAPTERS Apologies if you think Molly's a bit out of character, I was going for ballsy... ;)
1. The Intruder

"Half empty already..."

Looking at the red wine bottle in her hand and the large glass in the other, she couldn't help thinking that she should have grabbed another bottle on her way home. She then scolded herself for the thought, cursing that emptiness within her life was leading her sub-conscious to binge drinking on a week night.

"Well, Fridays not really a week night," she thought, "...just a night I should be spending with other human beings, socialising, having fun..." she took a sip, "...the drinking would have been _inevitable..."_ She shrugged the thought away, sighed and topped up her glass, wondering what televisual delight awaited her.

Sounded like a Doctor Who rerun.

Wait no...More like X Factor...

She listened out as the channel changed again through the door. Tip toed and cautious, Molly leaned her side against the wood.

"Molly, you make a terrible eavesdropper. Remind me never to ask your assistance in the field."

Molly felt her spine stiffen.

How? When?..._Why?_

"...And if you're planning on a cup of coffee after your wine, you know how I like it."

_Bastard..._

She decided not to seem fazed.

_My house, my general low confidence deserves some sort of boost here..._

She quick grabbed a mug and made his coffee, then a swig of wine later, she marched into her living room, plonked herself down on the couch and handed him the mug. With no acknowledgment, Sherlock Holmes grasped the hot drink ad continued switching from program to program. Molly decided to branch out into foreign territory.

"What are you watching?"

"Evidently, nothing in particular."

Slightly taken aback, she turned a blind eye on what she knew she should have expected from him.

"How can you watch all this...all this...well as John would say, _crap telly?"_

Molly sensed an opportunity.

"Well, if you can recall, I _wasn't._ I was in the kitchen, after having a shower in the bathroom. You are the one that broke into _my _house and started watching _my _telly." Proud of her contained outburst, she took a sip and got cocky. "...By all accounts, you Mister would make a terrible burglar..."

Sherlock almost smiled.

"You are much more tolerable when intoxicated, Miss Hooper. Some would say almost witty."

"I shall take that as a compliment..."

"As you wish."

"However, alcohol does not appear to make you act any more human..."

She was getting really cocky now. Sherlock looked up from the television for a second with a vague confusion on his face. He looked down at his mug, then up at Molly.

"I didn't. Just instant coffee and sugar in hot water." She took a long sip. "But I made you wonder..."

She didn't look away from the TV. She knew if she looked at him she wouldn't be able to maintain her poker face.

He glanced at her, then vaguely ahead. _Molly Hooper, confusing me?_


	2. The Discussion

"Normal people would laugh, you know."

"...What?"

Confused at the prospect of having to repeat something to the Sherlock Holmes, Molly obliged.

"I said normal people laugh. You know, at jokes..."

No rely.

"I'm referring to _normal people here..."_ Molly muttered under her breath, unamused.

"I'm normal." Slightly shocked at the remark, she explained.

"Normal people do not look, talk, walk or act like you. Name one normal thing you do, or have ever done." She turned to him, allowing the brief exchange of words transform into a conversation.

"I eat." She looked unimpressed.

"Yes three times a week differing from the conventional per day the rest of us work by."

"I don't need to eat as much as others, it compromises my work."

"So are you willing to admit your body is different to that of a normal person?"

"Yes! I mean no! Technically, no. My body is anatomically correct but I can handle my needs better than _normal people_."

"But what about other _needs_?" With another swig of red wine, she shuffled closer, no on her knees, becoming increasingly absorbed by the discussion. "What about sex?" That was it. She was drunk. Too much wine. Part of her had hoped she'd passed out and dreamed it all.

"Sex is irrelevant."

Thus came conformation of her reality.

"But you must have those feelings?...Or are you actually asexual?" That was it, she was gone. No holding back. He seemed obviously somewhat alarmed at her blunt questioning but she held his gaze.

"No I do not have those _feelings_...and I have already explained my standard physical characteristics."

"There's nothing standard about looking like _that..."_ Another sip...or nearer a gulp. _What the hell! I'm going down anyway..._ "But seriously, you never feel any...urges? No, excitement when you see someone attractive?"

She was carefully avoiding any particular gender as she knew it was a touchy subject at 221B. John had always made his preference clear and things were going well with Mary, but Sherlock on the other hand was a tough cookie to crack...

"I can honestly declare, I have experienced no impulse or desire towards a woman...or, as I can see it crossing your mind, neither that of another man." He sighed and stared ahead. She thought for a second, then smiled.

"But you know you like women." He turned back. "Just then, when you said, you automatically assumed i was talking about women. You do find women attractive and I think you're holding out o me Sherlock." She could have sworn she saw him twitch. The grin never left her face.

"Come on, Sherlock. Are you a legs or a chest man?" Her confidence was positively blooming.


	3. The Linchpin

It was at this point she realised her clothing decision that night. Short linen shorts and a plain, thin, white, spaghetti strapped top.

She was dressed for bed.

She wasn't excepting company.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

"I don't know what you mean."

She brushed off the uncomfortable shiver down her spine and almost embraced the fact Sherlock could see almost all of her. She felt pride in her bravery, though sensing how stupid she would have felt without the wine.

"I think you do...Come on, not even as a randy teenager?"

"I focused on other interests."

"Wait does that mean you haven't, you know? Sherlock are you a virgin?" She tried not to look as shocked as her face made her seem, but still she had that niggling feeling that he might be.

"Yes, I am. I have never taken part in a sexual encounter, as I have never deemed it important."

"Wait so you've never had some random woman seduce you? No, teenage experiments?"

"No, I find it unnecessary. Unnecessary noise, unnecessary use of energy. Unnecessary distraction overall really. Maybe I shall perform coitus in the far future to create a child, but I see no other use." She was staring at him now.

"No other use?! Seriously?...Wait what do you mean about noise, energy?"

"It is why I am here, proving it as an inconvenience. John returned from his _date_ with Mary. I had to leave for what was left of my sanity." He looked at her. "That was a joke. Apparently normal people laugh at jokes." She ignored him.

"But don't you think there might be something else to it? A reason why everyone else on the parent is so obsessed with it?"

"Possibly."

"_Possibly?..._Sherlock, let's look at this scientifically." He humoured her and turned more defiantly towards her. "Ok, there are 7 billion odd people on the planet. Worldwide people are enjoying the sexual company of an array of different people. You have experienced like without sex for 30-odd years?..." He nodded. "...But you haven't experienced life _with _sex as a key component." Again, he nodded in agreement. "So how does that put you in a position to conclude sex should solely be done as an act of procreation?"

He thought for a second, then realised this was not an argument he was going to win. Molly Hooper was right. She was _right._ He was biased and so could not give an appropriate angle to assess this issue.

"...In conclusion we can still not tell if you are of this species. Evidence against; you look like that for starters, you don't have an interest in sex or socialising and spend your life observing instead of living. Evidence for; you are categorically a man, which is a contributing favour to your always believing you are right." Proud of her summery she turned back to the TV. Sherlock, still annoyed she had stumped him, resolved to return the favour.

"So what would a _normal_ man do here?"

"What?"

"How would a normal man act here?"

"Well...umm, if they were, say a family member or friend...food mainly. They'd be here for a meal or something, or a cup of tea and a chat...Anyone else..."

"Anyone else..." He repeated, still turned to her, eyes fixed on her.

"Well if it was a date or something, then, most likely ...sex."

"So, which category do I fall into?" He asked calmly, hoping in her tipsy state and her new found confidence, would reveal, though her obvious crush on him, new flattering information he could store to use against her in the future.

"Well, friend obviously. Sex would include you actually getting turned on, which honestly doesn't seem possi..." He stared, disapprovingly. "...Yes, yes i know when Mummy and Daddy brought you home they assembled you with all the pieces in the correct places...but seriously. Name one thing in this room that could possibly turn you on!" He looked around, television droning in the background, he knew this answer needed to be convincing.

"Books."

"What?"

"Books." He pointed to a shelf of medical journals and short novels she'd flick through when bored, her _real_ collection upstairs in her room. "Brainy is the new _sexy."_ She looked at him for a second before sighing. Trying to ignore the fact Sherlock Holmes had just uttered the word _sexy_, making his smooth, chocolaty voice melt into her, but no. He wasn't getting off that easily.

"Girls plus books aren't sexy. Either she thinks it makes her look smart or she is too smart for you."

"Now, which of them would you be?" He asked playfully.

"Well, seeing as I proved the great Sherlock Holmes wrong with simple reasoning, I believe the answer is right in front of you. _Deduce_, Sherlock." Her instruction struck a chord in him she could tell, but a new found respect for her had caught him by surprise. "Now, let's see what else gets you all hot and bothered..."


	4. The Lesson

She didn't know why she did it.

She just did.

She straddled him.

Instantly he was taken aback. But determined, he stood his ground.

"Now Sherlock, let's get a response from you."

She slowly slid her way further up his thighs, towards his torso, so close they could feel each other's breath increasing.

He blushed. He sensed his mistake immediately.

"Ooh! Now that is something you don't see everyday..." She leant further forwards, at the last minute diverting to the side of his head. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the warming drug of her presence. Her voice whispered in his ear. "...Beat you've never been this close to a woman before, hey?" His hair was tickling her nose. He felt her twitch at the sensation. Electricity ran down his spine. "Lucky me, looks like I've found your sensitive spot on the first go..." she continued talking carefully tracing her lips along the tip of his ear. "...do I win a prize?"

He moaned.

His second mistake.

"You have no idea how good that sounds." She whispered. Growing more ballsy, she lifted one hand to his chest, the other the back of his hand, plunging into his dark locks. Her head now resting a millimetre from his forehead, her eyes flittering, neither closed nor open, her hands well left to explain, using the lightest of touches. "I know what you want. I can feel it. You can do it, I give you permission." She said with a smile, as he tried unsuccessfully to control his breathing. "It seems weird to you but it what we call human nature." He didn't move. "...Ok then I'll give you to the count of three. One...Two..." Still no movement.

"Three." He held strong.

"...Times up."

She began to lift herself off of him but at her first movement, she was thrust back down to him. One hand on her back, the other her neck, his lips were on hers in an instant. She could sense his inexperience but she was in awe of his raw passion and new found curiosity of her mouth. His fascination with every texture and taste was rushed and impulsive, nipping at her lips and learning her with his tongue.

For him, it was the strangest experience of his life. The lure of lip on lip contact was an issue he had never investigated. _Why is the appeal to taste another human being in the one place which is designed to taste different? _The strong overtones of the wine engulfed him but the coffee kept him vigilant. _Possibly as it is the most agile part of the head? _Before now he believed the core area of the body for communication was the head but now was unsure. He was accustomed to learning with his eyes. _Observing is what I do...So why are my eyes closed?...And why do I want to touch?_

His hand explored her back. Above her top, she was so smooth. The hem caught him surprised, but beneath the thin material enabled him to observe her more. Finally he slipped his arm, protectively around her waist pulling her closer still. Feeling her through his shirt, increased his infatuation further. He realised he wasn't wearing his suit jacket. Did he take it off or did she. He couldn't remember, neither did he care.


	5. The Understanding

When he released her he was panting. She knew she'd brought out the animal in him.

She brought out the man.

"Congratulations Mr Holmes. You're a real boy." Her eyes were still half closed but she felt his gaze. Her arms resting around his neck, his, her waist, neither body would release.

"Typical man...wanting what you can't have..." She muttered between breaths. At his returned gaze she continued. "I said times up and you took what your body wanted. How'd it feel to be dominate?"

"So these are the feelings? Your body takes over and flushes your system with hormones?"

"Pretty much, yeah..."

He contemplated for a moment...or at least he tried to. Her touch. All he could think about was her skin, her warmth.

"Don't touch me!" His outburst startled her and she instantly retracted her arms, not daring move from his lap. Holding her breath she wondered how three words cold turn her back into a mouse.

"I can't..." He started. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She'd done it before. She asked him a question.

"W-what can't you...what can't you do?" He looked up with piercing eyes. Staring into her eyes, she felt unnerved but couldn't move, her body wouldn't let her. His lips opened.

"Think." His eyes looked scared. "Molly, I can't...think." Her body came back to her and she unnervingly raised her hand to her cheek.

"But you are thinking now...aren't you?" He leant against her hand, looking down. "...so tell me what you are _actually_ thinking."

"Not proper thoughts..."

"Give an example of a proper thought then."

"Your skin loses about 30,000 to 40,000 dead skin cells from the surface almost every minute."

_The words of love indeed..._

"...so what are these _not-proper thoughts_ then?"

"They are less thoughts...more unanswered questions."

"So, because you can't answer them, it doesn't make it real?"

"Precisely!" She exhaled unimpressed.

"Ok, ask away..."

"Skin."

"Excuse me?"

"Skin...what it does I mean, well I mean I know what it does, how it functions anatomically but how does it do those, those...things?"

"What _things_?"

"Those things! The things you feel! How does the skin attract you to it, make you want to touch and taste it, send electronic surges through you at mere contact with another? None of it makes scientific sense!" she smiled at this child-like outburst.

"No shit Sherlock..." He looked at her more confused than ever. "What? You honestly thought everything had an explanation? Not all mysteries are to be solved, in some cases it ruins the magic...It's not always the how that's important, Sherlock, the feelings and emotions do sometimes have to take precedence."

A long pause saw him place his lips together and stare ahead. She wasn't sure what he was staring at, if anything, but she couldn't help feel like an adult who just told a child Santa didn't exist.

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me the exception to logic. Teach me how to feel."

"Ok."


	6. The Consequence

"Touch me."

"What?..."

"Touch me, Sherlock...Touch me!" She bounced slightly on his lap. He didn't appreciate it.

"Where? How?"

"Anywhere. And with your hands. Now!" He cautiously raised his hands to her shoulders, and was met by an unimpressed smirk. His inner child immerged.

"Well, you're not a very good teacher!" She giggled.

"Well, maybe you aren't a very good student. You show no interest in the subject matter..." She crossed her arms and looked away childishly. He smirked and raised his quite obvious bulge against her, cause her to let out a deep, overwhelming moan. He suddenly grabbed her once more and conquered her mouth. She instantly grasped hold of any skin she could find. Ripping his shirt from his trousers, her hand explored the bottom of his back. The chill was unregistered as he was too busy mirroring her movements. His hands dominated her back, one shared between her neck and above her top, the other climbing up under the fabric, curling around her. Their kisses became strained and their breathes short. His constant struggle with her top was distracting him and she knew it. She moved to small, light kissing, sometime dotting them around his face.

"Oh, just take it off!" He obliged. But then froze.

"What now?"

"Well, I'm not really one for 'man-handling' and it's doubtful you'll last long...you'll have to fuck me, Sherlock. It's the only way."

"Do you have contraception? Can you get it? How far away is it?"

"I'll take the pill in the morning!"

"Did you know a study in Paris, published in 2004 found a hormone in birth control pills accounted for 35 to 50 percent of the estrogen found in rivers there..."

"Sherlock! I'm slightly indisposed here if you didn't notice!"

"What? How?" She groaned and grabbed his hand and thrust it down her shorts. Yup, she was defiantly out of control. The mere presence of his finger tips caused a wave of ecstasy to race up her spine. This reaction left him powerful. His moved mere millimetres before Molly noticed.

"Hey! I'm almost there and if you want to learn properly, that would not be a good idea!"

"So give me a good idea then before I get bored!"

"Take off your trousers!"

"Ok!"

They both yanked off clothing and tossed it aside. Molly climbed back onto of him and he pulled her close.

"You ready?"

"No actually I could really go for a cuppa right now..."

She grabbed him and he shuddered, then collapsed down onto him.

The moments that followed were beyond the written word.


End file.
